I Cut And I Bleed
by caremkefo
Summary: Part 1: Dean's a recovering drug addict whose unhealthy approach to fighting his addiction leaves him with scars. Part 2: Since Dean met Castiel he's had more good days than bad, but he can't hide his scars forever. Warning for self-harm.
1. I Cut And I Bleed

Dean trudged into the small, dark bathroom, his alcohol-addled brain still able to navigate his way to the sink without walking into the side of the toilet because he'd made this journey so many times before. He pulled the cord dangling from the light on the first go, because in the five years he'd lived in his cramped apartment it had never moved, and a sickly yellow light illuminated the bags under his eyes. He stared into the eyes of his reflection, as if looking for answers that he'd never find, and absently scratched at the crook of his left elbow where the faded track marks still lined his skin.

He'd given up eighteen months ago, but the temptation - no, the _hunger_ \- was still there. It was always there, eating at him from the inside.

He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, not tearing his gaze from the pale shadow of his former self looking back at him. Inch by inch of pale skin was revealed - skin that hadn't seen the light in two years.

It was the middle of summer, and the other gardeners he worked with kept asking him why he didn't just strip off instead of working in a sweat-soaked shirt all day. The didn't understand, of course. They didn't know his background because he kept himself to himself. The others would all go out for drinks at the end of the week, but Dean made his excuses every time until they eventually stopped inviting him to join them.

He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor at his feet, and reached for the razor blade that sat next to his toothbrush. He pressed it into the skin just below his left pectoral muscle and paused.

He'd lost his muscular build when he'd started injecting and stopped working out, but he'd been building it back up over the past twelve months and now he looked pretty good - so long as he kept a t-shirt on - but he just couldn't shift the softness that was building up around his stomach.

He broke the skin, a thin bubble of blood oozing up, and he cut a straight line diagonally down, only about two inches long, cutting through several silvery lines of scar tissue. He cut another below it, parallel like train tracks, and he felt some of his hunger for a fix leave him. It was bad blood. Unclean blood, but he could only get rid of a small part of it at a time. He wasn't trying to kill himself, after all - just stave off one addiction with another.

The blade slipped, and he winced as it nicked the tip of his finger. He let out a bitter laugh. For all the times he'd calmly carved lines into his chest, he still flinched at a small cut. He rinsed the blade under the hot tap and sat it down next to his toothbrush.

He used to cut his thighs with his father's pocket knife after a really bad comedown, but he'd pawned that three years ago for a fix.

Dean stripped and stepped into the shower, steeling himself against the cold spray, and imagined the last of his craving wash away with the blood.

He woke up huddled in the shower cubicle four hours later, shivering, and it was all he could do to dry himself off and crawl into bed as the rising sun peered through the curtains.


	2. Mistakes Make Us Human

Castiel was straddling him, hips grinding down and lips nipping at his neck, and _fuck_ \- he was either going to blow his load too soon or his cock was going to give up. It had been such a long time since Dean had done this - even just with his hand - because the years of drug abuse had messed with more than his head.

"Dean," Castiel growled against his skin.

"Cas!" Dean gasped, as hands fumbled with his buckle.

Then his t-shirt was pulled free and suddenly two cool hands were sliding underneath, palming up his chest, and no - no, no, no, no, no. He pushed Castiel away.

"What the hell?" Castiel protested.

"I can't."

"Can't what? Because I'm getting mixed signals here."

Dean swallowed, unable to look Cas in the eye. "Wh… why can't we just get on with it?" he said eventually, defensive. "Why do we need to get naked?"

Castiel stood up and Dean suddenly felt really small.

"Why? Because this isn't a one night stand, Dean! Because I don't just want someone to fuck - I want to _make love_ to you! Because _I love you_ and you're the kindest, sweetest, most _beautiful_ man I've ever known! Because you asked me to wait and I've waited, even though you've never given me a reason to. You've _never_ told me you've loved me, you've _never_ asked me to stay, but _I don't want want to leave!_ But damn it," there were tears in Castiel's eyes, now, and he choked on his words, "you make it so hard when you give me _nothing_ in return!"

Dean looked at his lap, and his jeans that were no longer straining because his cock had given up by now. "Just go," he mumbled. "I'm not going to stop you if you want to go."

" _Are you even listening to me?_ I don't _want_ to go! I want you to trust me enough to tell me whatever it is that scares you - whatever it is that makes you think is so _terrible_ that I'd turn my back on you! I want you to give me a reason to stay. I want… I want you to tell me you love me," he finished softly.

Love… Of course Dean _loved_ him. But feeling it and saying it were two very different things with two very different consequences. He'd thought that if he didn't say it he wouldn't get hurt when Cas inevitably left, but seeing the pain written all over Castiel's face as he just _stood_ there, not going anywhere, hurt more than he thought possible.

It struck him that if Cas really _did_ want to stay - which he a part of him doubted - then perhaps he should stop pushing away; because if he _was_ going to lose Castiel then the least he could do was lose him honestly. Without looking at him, Dean pulled his t-shirt over his head, laying himself bare for Castiel to judge.

He heard Castiel's sharp intake of breath, and closed his eyes so he wasn't tempted to look at the revulsion on Cas's face when he saw that Dean wasn't really as beautiful as he thought him to be. One treacherous tear slid down his cheek, before it was brushed away by a thumb. He opened his eyes to find Castiel staring at him.

"Oh, Dean…" he breathed.

Dean gritted his teeth because he didn't need pity, but then he was falling back as Cas grabbed his legs and swung them around so they rested on the sofa. He settled himself in Dean's lap once again, stroking cool fingers across the silvery lines that cross-crossed his skin.

Cas could feel Dean's muscles flutter under his gentle caress, but Dean was still hiding from him. He bowed his head, pressing his lips to the freshest scar. "Why?"

Dean's mouth opened and closed, struggling to form the right words.

Castiel kissed another scar, and another.

"So I can breathe," Dean whispered. "I want…"

He clenched his fist and that's when Castiel noticed the telltale tracks along his inner arm. He cupped his hand around Dean's elbow, sweeping his thumb across the marks.

"Sometimes I want it so badly that I can't… I can't breathe, because I can't go back to that. I _won't_."

"So strong," Castiel whispered, stroking his fingers along the strong line of Dean's jaw. "So strong to keep fighting it."

Dean shook his head. "I was weak for needing it in the first place."

"No," Castiel stated firmly. "We all make mistakes - that doesn't make us weak, it makes us _human_."

Dean's right hand twitched. He wanted to touch Cas, but wasn't sure if he was allowed. He wasn't sure where he stood, now. It was confusing, because Cas hadn't left yet when Dean was so sure that he would.

Castiel bowed his head once again, kissing each scar that marked his skin before moving lower, licking into his navel and sucking on the layer of fat around his belly until Dean let out an involuntary chuckle because that _tickled_.

The occasional moan that escaped Castiel's lips as he worshipped Dean's body went straight to his dick, and soon it was begging for the attention it had been denied earlier.

When Cas curled his fingers around the waistband of his trousers and tugged down, Dean could barely raise his hips. In the past when they'd gotten a bit handsy it had been in half-darkness, because that was the way Dean liked it - that way he could hide the parts of himself that he didn't want people to see - and while he'd blown Cas on a number of occasions, he'd never let him return the favour.

Castiel's mouth continued its journey down, and when he suddenly stopped Dean knew that he'd seen them.

He screwed his eyes shut, awaiting judgement, but then Castiel pressed kisses to the insides of his thighs; what felt like one for every scar. A tear leaked past his eyelids, streaking down the side of his face and into his ear. Involuntarily his head twitched at the sensation. He didn't deserve Castiel's adoration. Before he'd vandalised his body he'd been beautiful - so he'd been told - but Cas was treating him like the fucking _Mona Lisa_.

Castiel looked up at Dean as he lowered his mouth down around his cock without taking his eyes from his boyfriend's darkened face, clouded with conflicting emotions. He couldn't begin to understand what Dean was feeling, but hoped that Dean could believe it didn't change the way he cared about him.

As wet warmth closed around his dick Dean opened his eyes, green meeting blue as he met Castiel's intense gaze. He lay still, too afraid of losing his balance on the tightrope they were both walking to risk moving; simply watching, awestruck, as Cas sucked him off.

He came too hard too soon, his hips thrusting involuntarily into the depths of Castiel's mouth, and through Cas choked slightly he didn't let him go until he'd swallowed every last drop.

"I love you," Cas told him, pressing a kiss into the dark curls above his cock. "Every inch of you."

Several more kisses pressed their way back up to his navel, and Dean's stomach muscles tightened as a surge of emotion threatened to overwhelm him. "Cas…" he pleaded brokenly, as it all became too much and his tears spilled over.

"Shh," Castiel hushed him, moving up to cradle him. "Shh, it's alright. It's alright. I'm not going anywhere," he promised when Dean clung to him. "I love you," he breathed, pressing a kiss into Dean's hair.

"You, too," Dean whispered, almost inaudibly, into his neck.


End file.
